“It was now the beginning of the end for those two wayward pups. Although, their journey began with desperate tears and no hope in sight. Many a trial lay on their path yet happiness was theirs.”
“Clint? Who are you talking to?”
“The audience, of course.”
“Yes. I figured it all out.”
“We are character’s in a movie.”
“Duh. Do you have any other explanation for our current situation?”
Nat starts blinking. She then starts thinking, thinking carefully about what Clint said. She wasn’t too sure what qualified as normal, but she supposed he had a point. Being adopted by a warm family was certainly fanciful. “Okay. You are right. Someone like you could only ever exist in fiction.”
“If anyone is a storybook character it’s you.”
She snorts and side eyes the fool.
“It’s the truth.” Clint huffs and pouts a little. “Whatever. My point was that Mom is a fanciful character.”
Nat pulls some cookies and places them on a cloth between them. Clint absentmindedly reaches for one as the two siblings watch their Mother trying to escape his new invention. Father kept circling the mechanical arms pulling on his mate while Mother instructed them to pull gently. Uncle made himself useful by hanging upside down from the newest invention hole.
“Why build a flying weapon, if you don’t like weapons?”
“It’s a flying prosthetic.” He tries for a serious tone, but no one could take him seriously with all that wiggling, panicking Alpha circling him and Dum-E beeping happily. But Mother’s uncharacteristic tone was probably due to Howard making a similar query. How Howard going to accomplish selling anything that makes ‘pew pew’ noises would be an exciting show to watch, seeing as Stark Industries no longer made weapons.
“Sure, Mom. Instead, it’s a very expensive skylight machine.”
“Snort. Good one kid.”
“Shut up, Steve. And Corncob, I already have its perfect use. JARVIS is included with every purchase.”
“Oh, I get it. Very nice Tony.”
“Thank you, Steve.”
Natalie did not like this.
“I predict doom,” Clint whispered eyeing both Uncle Steve and Mother warily.
Tony had been carted off to his room like a child. Sure, Wolf had princess carried him which was nice, he loved listening to Winter’s heart beating strongly. But the direction was completely the wrong way. It was away from his workshop. His beautiful workshop with his babies. His babies.
“All the babies and pups have gone to bed, and Jarvis really doesn’t want you staying up past seventy hours. Especially when you are still recovering from being bait.” Tony could feel Winter’s voice rumbling in his chest sending small shivers along Tony’s arms. He supposed Winter had a point. Not that Tony was gonna admit as much. No, he much rather puff up his cheeks, cross his arms and just enjoyed ridiculously high body heated super soldier.
What he didn’t enjoy was the simple act of Winter dropping him unto his bed. Then turning to stalk away from Tony. He always leaves. It’s something of an annoying trend even if he never goes far. Sitting outside his door like some guard dog. Tony has heard his many small discussions with Howard. (Well Howard blathered while Winter grunted.) Frankly, he is tired of it. Something is supposed to change right? At the end of any adventure, the hero is supposed to get the girl. And this case it’s either himself or Sam. Because ‘Capsicle’ was useless.
So he grabs Winter’s hoodie hood and grabs it tight, waiting. And Winter just does everything wrong. He is staring at Tony. Watching him, like Tony is someone special or crazy. Maybe, Winter is finally getting annoyed with Tony’s antics. “You like me. Right?” Smooth. Just the smoothest of smooth. “Because you abducted me first, so you have to take some responsibility for your actions.”
“Okay. Not even till death do we part.”
“What? You’re going to stalk me, even down in the underworld.”
“Without hesitation.” Winter drops himself on the bed yet not breaking eye contact with Tony. Tony’s eyes must have expressed his disbelief because Winter’s mouth twitches into one of his many almost smiles. “If anyone should be worried, wouldn’t it be me?”
“What? Why? Why do have any interest in me at all when you’re all-” Tony flaps his hands at his stupidly perfect eyes and smiles, gestures at his sexy arms (the both of them) and finally smacks his hands on the bed because Winter is patient, sweet, and can cook. Why would he want anything to do with him?
“Sorry, I didn’t understand that.”
“Shut up! I can words. And you totally did. Understand. That is.”
“Yeah.” Winter links their fingers together.
It’s cold and feels smooth. Tony loves to watch the joints move and running a slight touch along the many plates that is the mechanical skin. “I just don’t understand why. All you could have known about me is that I yell at inanimate objects that trip, spilling all of my god’s gift to humanity.”
“Words can seem a bit cheap. When they’re easily given and easily taken. Yet when you have none, they are almost mythical.”
“And what? My glorious rambling info dump convinced you during a moment of insanity that I was some divine figure of awesome.”
“Exactly. Your expression, your babbling, and the sound of your voice.”
“Howard said you need crazy to compliment your crazy.”
Tony shoves him, but the two-ton ass just smirks and makes kissy faces. “How come you never talk with Howard like how you talk to me? He never believes me when I tell him.”
“Words are a valuable commodity. Only for you and the pups.”
Tony bites his lip. He pulls his mate’s wrist up and gives a soft kiss.
Tokyo is so loud, too loud.
With the sounds of everyone living
How am I supposed to hear the whisper of your thoughts of me
All the way from Miyagi?
(What thoughts? What whispers?
Naive. Naive. Naive.)
Phones ring on the train, on the streets,
And hopefully (obsessively) I check mine –
Always, always, always
It’s not you.
Once upon a time, we were
Space Man Iwa-chan and Alien Tooru,
Childhood friends, heroic explorers,
But now here we are
Alone in seeking the universe.
(Alone? Whose fault? Whose choice?
Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.)
Your feet are firmly planted
Roots, my home I yearn for
My home I want never to return to.
Be my astronaut, Hajime,
Jettison into the unknown,
Move galaxies and
Do you remember when we first wrote
Letters to our future iterations?
Seven years, we didn’t understand time.
To our past selves, you’d proclaimed
So sure, so confident
(Has that changed? Have I changed?
No. No. No.)
You’ve looked for learning,
Yet all that physics has taught me,
Is that this gap,
This gaping hole at my side
Is perfectly measured
To fit you.
The days never begin and the nights never end,
For morning cannot come
Without my sun here to shine down.
This sea of perpetual dark drowns sense.
(Why didn’t I learn how to swim? Where are you to rescue me?
Useless. Useless. Useless.)
There is mud at the bottom of the ocean,
Clawing, grabbing, holding, me
Down in the cold below.
A lifeline, a reaching hand,
A bullet, a bullet train,
What I would give for
Anything but this hum
Classes began today,
And I thought things would be different.
With something to distract me,
Maybe you wouldn’t occupy my thoughts –
North and South, magnets
Pulling, pulling, pulling.
(Will we ever meet? Are we opposites?
Different. Same. Polarized.)
But even with magnets, there’s
One stronger than the rest,
That draws others close,
Fills their minds, their thoughts, their heart,
And my silent phone,
My empty messages,
Proves it was
If I call you Hajime,
Will you return to my side-
A hound called by the longing
Of a wayward pup.
(Was I ever more than a convenient friend? More than a strong teammate?
Did you laugh over how much you meant to me?
Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.)
You never were one to call first,
But I had hoped with
Different universities, different cities, different lives
That I wouldn’t care
I love you.
Maybe I don’t say it enough,
Maybe you dont believe me.
But bite my tongue, burn my lips -
The words sit heavy in my stomach,
Swallowed, choked, buried
Deep within, a slow burn
And poison in my mind.
(Why couldn’t you say yes? Why couldn’t you humor me?
Unfair. Unfair. Unfair.)
I wish I was patient,
I wish I was kind
But my love is neither.
Why should I follow God,
Why don’t you love me?
The Anatomy of Loving Your
Best Friend (pt. 2),
Or, Oikawa picked up the habit of writing unsent letters years
ago from a boy he knows will never love him back but can’t seem to let go